The young Sicilian chewed his lip as he sat. The boss had never talked to him like this. Maybe he was finally getting the recognition he deserved in the family.

"I did it like you told me to. I did it real good." Alberto's face broke into its natural smile. The man behind the desk remained silent. His chair creaked. Then:

"Say that again."

"Say what, boss?"

"Say what you just said. Again."

"I just said…I said…I did it like you told me to."

"Uh huh. What else?"

"And, umm…" Alberto was shaking visibly now, the brim of his hat destroyed. "And that I did it real good." Silence again.

"I thought that's what you told me to --"

"You come into my home. And you end a sentence with a preposition?" The man said, swiveling in his chair.

"Aw shucks, boss. I didn't think --"

"No. You didn't. You didn't think. And what have I told you about using 'like' as a preposition…? And 'good' as an adverb?" The man pointed to a shadowed figure behind Alberto, and the young Sicilian slumped in his chair, a pool forming at his feet.

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